Take Me With You
by Gabi217
Summary: Ginny's getting married...she thinks. But what happens when memories come flooding back, and a blonde hero comes to rescue her? R & R, Please! One-Shot!


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Title: Take Me With You

* * *

I was 22. I had what every Weasley was known for; bright red hair, dark, no-tell eyes, and light-colored freckles dusted carefully across my nose and below my eyes. I was standing nervously in my mother's room of their new house, white dress and white, long train pooled carefully around my feet. It was a sunny day outside, sunlight flooding in and lighting up the room from the skylight windows, creating tiny golden glints in my messily curled auburn bun. Too bad the weather didn't match my mood, though.

My mum fawned wearily over me, every so often sniffling into a tissue that was balled tightly in her hand. Today was supposed to be the big day, the best thing that would've ever happened to me, I suppose, and something my family and I had been awaiting for a while. I was getting married, and to Harry Potter no less. Things were supposed to be magnificent, perfect.

But they weren't. They were slowly growing far from it now.

"Mum, can you, um, leave for a few moments or something? So I can think?" I asked, putting up a false, vibrant smile. Molly Weasley only scowled a tad, patted my shoulder gently and said, "Alright. But hurry up, dear, wouldn't want you late for your own wedding."

I nodded, feeling that wad of butterflies in my stomach again. She left, bustling out of the room whist sniffling and murmuring to herself. Once I knew the door was closed tightly, I let my poor shield down, cradling my head gently in my hands. Tears slipped out the corners of my coal-rimmed eyes, and I knew it was leaving marks on my cheeks but I didn't care so much anymore. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to be standing here, on my _wedding_ day, trying to talk myself into going through with it. No, it wasn't supposed to be like this at all, and I suppose it wouldn't have ever happened if not for my bad-ass attitude and my large love for anything alcoholic.

* * *

I had just turned 21, and was tired of the same old crowd in the bar we'd gone to, to celebrate. As of then I was totally smashed, which consisted of being drunk beyond belief. But that didn't stop me from stumbling my drunk-ass self down a few streets, into a totally different bar. I slipped through the jam-packed dance floor and stood next to the bar, smiling and flirting with every man that passed. (Except the nasty ones, though) It must've totally slipped my mind that I was engaged, perhaps because of the rum. But that didn't stop me from leaving with a totally hot blonde guy, who'd made it his job to try and take my breath away almost every way possible. 

When I woke up the next morning, wrapped in a tangle of silk sheets and masculine limbs; I was in Hangover _Hell_. Of course, though, I freaked out when I remembered what the hell I'd done, which consisted of going and fucking some complete _stranger_, from a _bar. Damn. _But as I rolled over, I found that it actually wasn't a _complete_ stranger; but just the sight of him shattered me inside and out. The shockingly bright platinum hair, lean arms and stormy gray eyes - _fucking hell_! What the hell had I _done_? But, I was almost calmed a bit when as his hand snaked around my fairly exposed waist, I saw the gold band around his ring finger. And as his open, cloudy eyes saught out mine, I nodded at the silent agreement.

* * *

I began visiting his large Muggle flat that he owned every time I could get away from Harry, and his girlfriend (Leticia, I later learned) was away. We both knew it was wrong, but we also knew as a fact that we could never find what we felt with each other with someone else. Yes, it was extremely hard; and _yes_, it was a giant risk. But somewhere along Harry and mine's engagement, I realized that he wasn't enough for me anymore, and that I'd grown out of that stupid old school-girl crush a long time ago. And I thought, that just maybe, I loved Draco more. But then again, it was only a thought. 

After several reckless weeks, perhaps a month or so; suspicions arose, and quickly. Harry began calling constantly and checking up on me, and I noticed I'd been too careless and smelled quite strongly of Draco's cologne; and my once well-groomed image was slowly fading as I came home looking more and more disheveled.

Of course, Draco was experiencing the same problems. His girlfriend had found several of my long red hairs on his pillows, and after one particularly strange evening, I'd left a pair of satin underwear jammed down between the headboard and mattress. But somewhere along the way, my wedding was advancing; coming closer and closer before I even realized it, and the risks were only growing larger. One night, after something that resembled rather wild sex, I approached the situation. After all, who wanted to get hurt from a large mistake?

* * *

"Draco?" I squeaked, breathing in the now-familiar scent of sweat and aftershave. He murmured something and pulled me closer to his chest, arms wrapped firmly around me. 

"Yes?" he replied, rubbing my back. I took my time, trying hard to figure it out. I sighed.

"What is it?" he asked. I was silent for another moment.

"Draco," I said, "this is getting dangerous; too risky. I think we should stop."

The words spilled and tumbled rather messily from my lips. His hands stopped moving, and he was still. The only sounds were our slow breathing, and the steady thrum of the fridge in the kitchen. He sighed, and pushed me away just a tad, looking into my eyes. Staring, hard into them he said, "But-Oh _God_. Ginny, Ginevra, I think – I think – I – I love you."

I was still and silent as a rock. Tears leaked slowly from my eyes, and I couldn't help myself but try and run away. I slipped from his trembling hands and searched for my discarded clothing, dressing in the quiet darkness. And as I stood before the flickering fire, clutching my open robes to my chest; he approached. His hand found my neck, the other pushing back red curls. And I noticed, for the first time that day I finally noticed; his golden engagement band was gone from his finger.

My heart thudded fast in my chest as tears fell down my face. His lips touched mine, slowly at first, before the kiss grew intense and hungry. After what seemed an eternity he pulled away, hands still on my neck as I gasped for breath.

"Yes, Gin. I think I'm in love with you."

I choked back a sob that threatened to escape and pushed his hands away, gently. Grabbing a handful of green dust in my hand I whispered, "That's what I'm afraid of, because that's what makes it too dangerous, Draco."

Without another word and a hurt stare from him, flames engulfed me only for me to realize they were only bringing me to hell.

* * *

He sent letters that I stopped opening, tokens and gifts I tossed reluctantly into the trash. I moped, sort of, and made it my constant job to bitch carelessly at everyone. They just smiled, of course, and blamed it on the stress, which only made me worse. I'd completely forgotten about my wedding, which was only a week away. 

And then there I was. Staring aimlessly at the closed door, tears pouring down my cheeks. I was sniffling softly and trying hard not to get mascara tears on my dress, when I heard it. The soft tapping, like a knock on a glass door. _Fuck_. I spun around quickly, and there he was.

Standing on my balcony, neat and pressed for my wedding, was Draco Malfoy. _Hell. _His hand was raised, fisted, against the glass, and the whites of his eyes were red and bloodshot; as if he hadn't slept lately or had been drinking. I sucked in my breath in a quick gasp, and pulled the curtains over the doors. He frowned, as if I were silently telling him to go away, but stepped back as if surprised when I pulled open the doors.

I shut them quickly once he was all the way inside; hoping to all Gods no one had seen him enter. I leant against the glass, white dress rustling as I tried to pull it toward me. He just stared on, half surprised, with a strange look on his face. His stony features softened as his hands reached up and brushed against my cheeks. I was still for a moment, eyes closed at his touch. But then I remembered.

"Draco," I hissed, so no one heard me, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

He touched my eyelids, rough, calloused hands touching my soft skin.

_

* * *

His hands were on my cheeks, and we were standing in the lobby of his flat. _

"Draco," I sighed. He knew this was coming, we'd silently discussed it time after time.

"What?" was his annoyed response as his lips worked against my neck. His hands seemed to find themselves at the hem of my t-shirt, and were working their way up. I'd swallowed whatever I was going to argue about.

"Just this one last time," he murmured into my ear as he pressed me back against the wall. "This last time, and I'll call it quits."

If only it were that easy.

* * *

"I needed to see you again. One last time." Damn.

I swallowed hard. _One last time?_

"I'm getting married, Draco," I said, answering my own stupid question. He nodded solemnly…yes, he knew this.

"Why haven't you returned my letters?" he asked. _God._

"I'm getting **married**!" I repeated, but I choked on the last word. He noticed, and without me realizing it he pulled me closer, hands that rested on my cheeks moving down to the base of my neck.

"I know. I'm selfish, Gin, but you could've replied. I'm – I – I missed you," he stammered.

Fuck. This was not what I wanted. I nodded slowly, and the words slipped off my lips before I had a chance to stop them.

"I missed you too." A hint of smile twitched at his lips. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, squeezing them tight as I could thinking that if I squeezed them hard enough I would disappear. _No, I can't do this._ _It's my wedding day. _I was suddenly aware of the loud conversations overlapping themselves in the kitchen, the Orchestra in the backyard and little kids screaming and calling to one another downstairs. Sounds a few months ago I would've loved, but dreaded now. I could hear his heart beat, and was aware of his growing closeness, and his warm coffee-scented breath on my lips. And then I knew.

If I did what I'd been planning on doing, I would've thrown my whole life away. I'd be so very unhappy, dreading every day and the life to come without him there to kiss me…_God. _I really did love him.

"Draco," was what slipped off my lips. When his touched mine, my mouth fell open in a gasp as I reveled in that tiny wave of something I'd been missing so much. His tongue sought out mine and I opened my eyes, watching those silver storms I'd come to know and love. He tasted lightly of coffee and cinnamon, a flavor that weakened my knees and left me breathless when he pulled away.

"Draco," I whispered again, touching his face and cupping it in my hand as I hoped what I was doing was right.

"T-Take me with you," I said. "Please, Draco. T-Take me away with you." Something flared in his eyes. Joy, perhaps? I didn't know, didn't care. The only thing that mattered then was his arms around me and his lips next to my ear, saying, "As you wish."

And just like that, with a loud crack and lips against my neck, I was whole again.

* * *

After awhile of hiding, I sent letters from the Manor. (He'd sold his flat in Muggle London, and taken up the Manor now that his mother had moved to a small group of Islands somewhere off the coast of Africa. I moved in with him.) I had heard from a group of close friends that my mother had gone berserk, opening the doors and finding me gone. (I left a letter of course, I'm not stupid. With my father the Minister of Magic, things can get a bit out of hand.) Firstly, though, I owled Harry. I knew he'd be upset, and I knew he'd tell my idiot brothers. But after a few letters, he said he understood. My brothers, though, screamed themselves to fucking hell when they found out. Mum, on the off hand, was very angry and fairly upset; and took a lot of convincing that I was in love before she left the situation and bothered me about getting married. Draco had only blushed, and left the room. Later, I got to find out why.

* * *

It was raining outside. From up in our bedroom in the Manor, I heard faint music. I drifted down the fairly dark hallways and down the steps, wandering through the living room and dining room to the sun room and then to the back parlor doors, where the music seemed to be the loudest. I'd only wondered what the hell an Orchestra was doing out in our backyard in the rain, when I opened the doors. There, face to wet face with me was Draco himself, perched on one knee and a tiny velvet box sitting in his palm, ring toward me. I sucked back my breath, stumbling backwards as I looked around. Almost 50 people were sitting there, instruments and all, in the rain; playing 'You Are My Sunshine', for me. Draco, of course, was soaked to the bone, soft platinum blonde hair plastered to his forehead. He sang along, so softly that at first I didn't hear him.

You are my Sunshine

My only Sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my Sunshine away

I'll always love you and make you happy

If you will only say the same

But if you leave me and love another

You'll regret it all some day

Of course, though, I'd said yes immediately.

* * *

We got married, eventually of course. Me, in the same white dress in our large backyard at the Manor, family and close friends pooling around us. With Lucius dead and Narcissa happily waiting for a daughter-in-law or at _least_ a grandchild, it was lovely. And I was happy. 

And now here I am, sitting at the window seat in our bedroom at the Manor, staring out into that same backyard. I sit here, sometimes, day after day and just watch; somedays just being happy with Draco, and others laughing internally that I'd been such a chicken so long ago. But it fills me with joy all the same.

It makes me so content to sit here, quietly munching my latest craving (potato chips and ketchup, blech, but I suppose that's what I get for screwing around with Draco Malfoy) and watch my happily married blonde husband swing around our tiny 3-year-old son Sebastian, who resembles us both. But sometimes, though, I wonder why life has such complicated ways of bringing two people together.

**Er...ok...uhm...was it bad? I thought it was bad, but I didn't care much...tell me what u think!**


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